“He is a very brave young Englishman of the true bulldog breed, who is going to stick to his post oblivious of the consequences. It is that breed that makes the British Empire what it is. Do you still want me to recall him?”
“Yes,” spluttered the Earl. “I want him recalled. I don’t intend him to be done to death by a dirty Spanish anarchist.”
Greatorex’s look was very disdainful.
“I will be on the wires all day with Stonehenge and Guy. If he consents to be recalled on any pretext, I will recall him. But please understand me, Saxham; he shall only be recalled with his own consent. I will go no further.”
The tall, lean man stood up, and towered over the somewhat blustering Lord Saxham.
“You can recall him, whether he consents or not,” cried the angry father, “if you choose.”
“In this case I am not going to exercise my prerogative. It is no use arguing, Saxham. On this point my mind is made up. I will only add that I greatly admire your son’s attitude. If he sticks to this business, he will have a great career before him.”
“Unless he is murdered to-morrow,” commented Saxham bitterly, as he walked out of the room.
The poor old Earl went back to Ticehurst Park in a very agitated frame of mind. Lady Mary was his favourite child, but Guy was his best beloved son. Ticehurst would inherit the lands and the title, but for Ticehurst he had only a very mild liking.
Mary met him in the hall. She was only a little less perturbed than her father.